Elfen Liner Notes : Course Correction
by Gojirob
Summary: Trying to change your mind when destiny is fighting you can be difficult; trying to change it when someone opposing you thinks they're an agent of destiny can make it impossible. One man does what we were told he didn't do - can it make a difference?


Course Correction

by Rob Morris

THE HILLS NEAR KAMAKURA, JAPAN, TWENTY YEARS BEFORE THE WAR OF THE HORNS

A simple, largely uneducated man, one not known for his deep thinking or selflessness had already made one choice that would alter the course of history.

He was now on the verge of making another.

The bundle in his arms made gurgling sounds. At what would soon be no longer his house, a tired woman slept off her otherwise unceasing care for that bundle. When she awoke, she would discover a note, and curse the man's name, this before beginning an unceasing quest to undo what he had done.

For the record, the man had written no note and had in fact not done anything that needed to be undone-or more accurately, he had not done anything that he was in a position to undo.

"This should be a good spot. No one around for kilometers. This area's supposed to have a demon race that inhabits it. If they are here, maybe they'll take you in or maybe they'll just eat your filthy carcass."

Those legends were false, but sadly, the ones who believed that legend the most were the ones the legends were based on. This would in fact prove to be incredibly sad, and in short order.

"Why did you have to shatter our perfect happiness? We didn't even argue about leaving the toilet seat up, till you came along!"

He put the baby down on the grass, telling himself that letting it die here was different than simply dashing its brains. In fact, if he had ever reached prison, the other inmates would have vividly demonstrated why this was no better, and why in fact it was worse. But he would not ever reach a court, let alone prison.

"Maybe I haven't lived the life of a sainted Buddha. But I have done nothing-NOTHING-to deserve having something like you inflicted on me!"

He was tired, and so he sat down next to the pajamed infant. His plan was to be up and out within a minute. But something brushed against his hand.

"What the Fu-"

It was the hand of the infant girl, and she had seized his finger. She was making a small smile at him.

"You think this changes any-"

He was about to unleash a stream of invective and justifying circular logic to tell off someone who barely understood tone, let alone words. But his voice was stilled. His heart was seized. While this girl would in the future wield incredible powers, none of those was in play. Another power, far greater than horns or even halos, was seizing control.

"Your eyes-"

He had every ability to stop meeting her gaze. Again, she had no powers at this time. But far from averting his gaze, he looked at the infant, truly looked at her. A miracle then occurred.

"What am I doing?"

The monster he had left on the ground had become his daughter again. He picked her up and held her close. A father who once laughed when someone said he had no heart was now holding his heart and crying.

"I'm so sorry. I haven't been much of a husband, and never much of anything. For you, though, I want to finally stand as a man."

The girl giggled as he stroked her horns, and suddenly, the sappy stories of Scrooge and George Bailey all made perfect sense.

"Yeah. You like that, don't you? Well, we better get home before your mother gets mad. I swear, I will be there for you, even if she should divorce me for the heel I've been."

A new and exciting chapter of history was being written. But history likes its old chapters very well, and when its course is diverted, like a mighty river, it will laugh off the best efforts of man or superman as it shifts back to its original shape. The father heard a voice.

"No. No, this just won't do. It won't do at all."

The father felt his right leg explode in pain-real pain. This was a man at times struck in the kneecap with golf clubs and two-by-fours, and this pain eclipsed the worst he had ever taken, even in a pitched gang fight. His right leg was bleeding, and its permanent loss seemed a great likelihood.

"I will warn you once. Put the Messiah down."

The reformed father looked over at his assailant. A very tall, powerfully built man in his late forties to early fifties stood with two other men. One was as nondescript as one could really get. The other-had an odd smile, and greasy-looking, unkempt hair. He looked like the sort that his neighborhood gangs-both ally and enemy-would decide against bringing in, for fear they simply could not control him. He looked like he needed control.

"I no longer want to put her down. I want my daughter to live..."

His other leg was shot, and it was all he could do not to drop the baby. The attacker spoke once more, his voice matter of fact and insanely self-assured.

"My apologies. I merely meant place her on the ground and step away."

"Apologies-why shoot me again, then?"

The attacker had eyes that reminded the father of pictures of Tojo from history books.

"I shot you again because you did not place her on the ground. There was always the chance that you were playing a game."

The nondescript took the baby from him, and he did not fight, again fearing dropping her.

"My family has no money. We..."

The next shot tore through his right arm. Apparently, the attacker was using a caliber high enough to disable, but low enough to not cause mortal damage straight away.

"Do you think mere money can measure against the life of the Messiah? Are you that great a fool? Even one of your poor race must grasp that there is much more going on here."

_Great_, he thought. _My baby's being taken by some cultish lunatic. _Sadly, he was not incorrect in thinking this.

"Race? Bro, we're both Japanese!"

By now, he was expecting to be shot in the other arm, and the nonsense-spewing psycho did not disappoint.

"Such limited definitions of race. I speak not of little thrones and principalities waving armies at each other. I speak of the modern passing of the Neanderthal, the Cro-Magnon. The lovely new species that shall at last supplant the ugly old one. This is made certain by the coming of the Messiah."

If he was going to die, the father was determined to hear it all.

"You keep calling her the Messiah. Why?"

The attacker took off his own hair, which proved to be a toupee. Underneath, he had horns that somewhat resembled his daughter's. _Did he do this to himself? He seems the sort. He seems the sort to do just about anything _

"Why, indeed? You are limited, even for a foolish Human. In your unthinking moment, you could have destroyed our savior."

The father realized the process of his life's blood leaving him made more sense than the blather coming out of this maniac.

"I wasn't going to destroy her anymore. I realized she's my daughter and I love her. I was going to raise and protect my child, as I'm supposed to."

Another gunshot took one of his lungs apart. Ironically, the continued shocks were keeping him alive for the time being.

"And? I am supposed to sit back and watch while you teach God's Treasure the phony ways of compassion and charity, rather than the innate harshness of life that she will learn? Am I not to take up arms as she is lead to believe there are people in this world worth knowing, let alone saving? Why else do you think I had people in every hospital in this country waiting to tell me such a child had arrived? Do you think I did that for no reason?"

The father wondered if his own words were even coherent anymore. Vision in one eye was gone.

"So you'll teach her all that cynical bullshit?"

"Not at all. My dear dying fool, I will do what you were supposed to do-leave her out here, then drop a call to Child Welfare. Where better to learn what you Humans really are than in the tiny hellholes you reserve for those of your cubs with no one to watch over them? No-if I tried to teach her, there is always the chance of lessons being taken wrong, or instructors I retain disobeying me. Life on this planet will be the firm, unyielding teacher that makes her want to supplant its current unworthy masters."

The father who had reformed too late took a last lingering look at the daughter whose beauty would now be tarnished by an agenda he could never have guessed at.

"I won't let you harm Kaede!"

Despite wounds that shredded muscle and bone, the father found it in him to move, striking the nondescript attacker's helper square in the nose with an upturned palm, killing him. This man, while wholly Human, had a genetic quirk of his own-a pain threshold some called crazy high.

"Get back from my child!"

His daughter would inherit this trait, and use it to save the one she loved, even as her body melted. His daughter's father would not be as successful. The greasy henchman-and he realized now that these were evil henchmen, however ludicrous it sounded-moved in on him. Even with his senses overloaded and the smell of his own blood, Kaede's father found this man absolutely revolting.

"Time to play with the Messiah's sperm donor!"

There was a crucial difference at play in this. The greasy, pony-tailed henchman was as insane as he looked, and he was even cackling as his hands went for the throat of his mortally-wounded opponent. But both the amount of strength he was using and the tactic of instilling fear in his target was not designed for a fighting-mad adult who had found his soul after too long an absence.

"How does it feel to play conduit to God's judgment on your weakling species, asshole? You better not have passed any of your stale genes onto the Messiah!"

A leg that should not have been able to move and should have fallen off if it did met the greasy lunatic's crotch full-force. For his part, the father actually wondered if he had become some kind of zombie, for all he was still able to muster in his condition.

"Try passing on any of yours, dickwad."

The greasy henchman writhed on the ground, crying his eyes out.

"Hey! He hurt me! He's not supposed to be able to do that!"

Kaede's father, who was in fact still dying, was now even more disgusted.

_Guy comes on like The Joker, and crumples like a villain in a kid's cartoon?_

Apparently, the ring-leader (again a term the father found ridiculous but a necessary concession to the situation) found the whimpering psycho at least almost as disgusting. A gunshot was fired past the grease-ball's head.

"If Uncle had not made me vow to spare his only grandson-BAKA! You were not facing a child this time. Even the moron race who rules this planet for now can overcome your insipid showmanship."

"But, Onii-Chan-he hurt me!"

"Again, perhaps if you wrestled on occasion with someone above eight years old, you would actually be the demon your heritage says you are-and where are your glasses?"

"They-they make me look like a dork. I need cool glasses-like John Lennon!"

The leader pointed at his limousine.

"Place the Messiah over by the knoll. Take those pajamas off-they could identify her. Have our people secured the mother yet?"

The dying father found that being disregarded made him feel no better than being attacked, but the strength to object to this wild tableau had left him.

"She-she wasn't home, Onii-Chan. But they managed to plant the note from this-this scum!"

He found that being called scum _by_ scum gave him some angry strength back.

"I didn't leave any note! I didn't want her to know what I was doing."

The leader smiled.

"You indeed left a note, which aped well your ape style and monkey scribble, and announced all your corrupt plans for our wonderful girl."

Past his limits or caring. the father cried out once more as he went for the leader.

"I WON'T LET YOU HARM KAEDE!"

The lead attacker fired three bullets straight into the father's head. His voice never raised even an octave.

"Such heroic nonsense."

He turned to the cousin he felt he wasn't distant enough from.

"Dispose of the corpses. I must make a call."

The ring-leader stopped and looked at the executed father.

"Take one of his fingers."

"A trophy, Onii-Chan?"

"Put it in ice, slime. He held up to his pain quite well. I have a notion..."

He trailed off, and as feared a killer as his cousin was and would become, he knew better than to ask even a single more question. He did his grisly work, then buried the men near a spot next to the old ruins that would later see a 'donated' tree transplanted over it.

Inside the limo, the revered head of the successful Kakuzawa Conglomerate spoke in an annoyed tone to a bureaucrat who would not survive the end of the month.

"No! Do not record that a child was found at this location, any abnormalities you might see, or where it was taken. Just-just respond known and understood."

So the girl was found naked and abandoned, and a life often very unfair began. She would learn while still alive that her mother never abandoned her search. But it was only after this life was done that she would learn the father who had spurned her also tried to undo his sin, and even died for it.

Three weeks later, the results from DNA tests on a severed finger would bear interesting and even sadder, more bitter fruit.

"So, Kakuzawa-San, this wildman attacked you and your cousin?"

"Yes, my friend. The finger is all we could reclaim of it. Its test results showed it had an incredibly high tolerance to pain. There were other anomalies, harder to quantify."

His friend nodded.

"What are you getting at?"

Kakuzawa sighed.

"Prime Minister, the American bombs ended a war and opened up Pandora's Box. Seeing these results makes me wonder about all that radiation, the ancient rumors of a demon race in Kanagawa, and even the wilder theories of my one-time mentor, Professor Quatermass."

The Prime Minister chuckled.

"Oh, are we all Martians, then?"

"Give the man his due, my friend. Before his mysterious death and the wilder theories of his later years, he showed that something is happening to mankind. I merely suggest that we in Japan place ourselves at the forefront of all research in this direction. A master facility to put all competitors and copycats to utter shame."

The Prime Minister breathed in.

"That would mean land and money, even to start in. Lots of both, I suspect."

Kakuzawa nodded.

"My family has land off the coast of Kamakura, in sight of Enoshima Park. Kakuzawa land, sir-and Kakuzawa money to build it. I would only require yearly funding from our over-burdened taxpayers."

"But Hideki-San-didn't the golf developers offer you billions for just a spot on that island?"

Kakuzawa shook his head.

"I enjoy a good game. I enjoy money. I enjoy serving my race even more."

"Then you are a true patriot, Hideki-San. It would make me feel better to have a leash over freaks like this pain-ignorant wildman. But what do you suspect is to become of us?"

Kakuzawa played his concerned persona for all it was worth.

"Who knows? Perhaps Humans' replacements have already arrived, and the reign of the race is done with. Perhaps this can be prevented-or perhaps I can be there to greet those replacements at the door."

The man then leading Japan smiled.

"With your sonorous voice, Hideki-perhaps those newcomers might even mistake you for God Himself."

Kakuzawa forced a smile, not in his intent, but in its fullness and sincerity.

"I assure you, my old friend, that at the National Institute For Human Evolution, there will be no such mistakes. After all-I'm not Kami just yet!"

One laughed sincerely, the other much less so, and the deal was sealed. The efforts of one lone man to improve his lot and that of the child he came to treasure too late were being twisted into creating the place of torment for many children, his own included.

For many years, the lost spirit of the father of the girl called Kaede would wander around that spot. He would see his little girl, and watch. Once, he guided a stray dog to her, hoping that something could stop the deterioration of her heart. He then saw the dog buried right next to him, his own bones never noticed by the girl he had wronged but tried to right.

He tried any number of little things, but her course was now set. On occasion, he saw a dark shadow that resembled Kaede but was awash in hate. This shadow looked at him and sneered.

_"Great timing, hero. Changing your mind right when you were alone and could be jumped? But I won't complain. Your trip up that mountain made my work so much easier. Your precious Kaede fled when the boy broke her heart. You are now the father of Queen Lucy The First, the greatest killer in history."_

_The father looked at the grim shade._

_"We are both spirits?"_

_"What of it?"_

The father silenced the hateful specter by slapping her across the face.

_"In this place-we both have invisible hands."_

The hate-filled girl-thing glared as it rubbed the cheek it didn't have, any more than he had hands. It didn't like being slapped anymore than the coward pedophile henchman.

_"Your fate will be Hell!"_

_"Yours will be Oblivion!"_

The monster learned to avoid him, after that.

Whether her name was Kaede, Lucy, or Nyu, the father couldn't go into her home too often. The dog, who could sense him, got nervous when he came by. When the cowardly monster he had fought came after the girls his child saw as sisters, the father waited till that moment on the beach when 'Lucy' used his head as a weapon. The dead man, his name forever unknown, looked at the father and cried out.

"You? You're dead! Aiming for a rematch?"

The father shook his head.

"Ever see that film with Patrick Swayze, Demi Moore and Whoopi Goldberg?"

Shadow hands pulled the monster down to his fate, his screaming ever more unbecoming as he vanished.

"No, I'm guessing you never did. Mayu caught it on cable. Good music too."

When he saw his daughter's path end-he found that he still couldn't face the one who he had failed.

But when her trial in the life after was set to begin, her father vowed to show Kaede that he was worth something more than nothing, by taking the most thankless task imaginable.

He prayed before the powers that be, and asked to be her defense attorney.

Yet he still couldn't tell her.

Whether he ever did is a story for another day.


End file.
